


Breathing In Stars

by TheQueen



Series: Seven Sins Ain't Enough [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Could be expanded on at a later date, Drabble, Fake AH Crew, Fem Jack, Gen, Michael-centric, Trans Female Character, Trans Jack, accepting prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellow him the city smoked. "Whatcha thinking about?" Ray asks. Michael smiles. "The stars."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing In Stars

Bellow him the city smoked.

Taking a lung full of black tar and nicotine as Gavin grabbed another grenade from the box he’d brought up (then full now half empty) and Ray readied his gun, he braces himself for another loud explosion or sudden death. But that was always half the fun when you handed a grenade to Gavin. Breathing out slow, he watches Gavin take a step back, pulls his arm back and throw with all his might so the grenade went soaring past Michael’s head and into the open air beyond the safety of their private skyscraper rooftop just as Ray let out another ear deafening shot from his favorite pink rifle (the one he rarely brings out on jobs but keeps around the house for fun) so Michael can watch the grenade explode above the street like a colorless firecracker. Behind him, Gavin hollers and Ray cheers. Then there is a solid thud that starts another round of cackles and Michael looks behind his shoulder to see Gavin rolling on the floor like the idiot he is and Ray rubbing his chest, still laughing.

Snubbing out his half-smoked cig, Michael leans forward to see the police below continue to drive themselves into a frenzy, starring up at them with what Michael hopes is horrified and confused faces, unable to do anything but traffic control incase a grenade happened to fall on the road where an innocent could be caught in the crossfire of one of Gavin’s games—not that Ray ever missed.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Ryan muses from where he’d snuck up on him and takes a seat. In response, Michael slumps against his shoulder with a thoughtless hum. Ryan snorts and settles so Michael’s head is comfortably pillowed on Ryan’s shoulder. “What’d you give him, Ray?”

Ray laughs and there is another shot and another explosion as someone far below them screams. Gavin answers for him, “Nothin’. That’s all him.”

Michael thinks about flipping him off but the effort to lift his arm seems too much to make it worthwhile. A door slams and Geoff comes singing in that awful falsetto screech of his, “YoooUUUU GOT mE WRAPED ARouND YoUR FINGER!”

Gavin laughs harder and screams, “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT LINGER?” as Ray starts groaning and Ryan joins in with an echoed “Doooo you! HAVE to!” that is almost pleasant. Almost. Jack (and when did she get here) belts a low “Ahhhh haaaaaa haahaaaaaa. Doooo yoou have TO!”

“That’s not how the song goes,” Gavin cuts her off and then the two are off arguing as Geoff egged them on. Ray falls down besides him, boneless and loose limbed, and crosses his legs instead of letting them dangle off the edge like he and Ryan were. In his hand, he held some off-brand apple juice designed for five year olds based on the smiling apple character on the front. In his other was a diet coke, which he passed off to Ryan.

Michael moved his head so Ryan could open his coke without feeling bad for disturbing him (and how cute was it that the great Vagabond was so considerate to those who used him as a pillow) and instead flopped backwards to look up at the dark orange-blue sky above him. Sometimes Michael could admit to missing his traveling days where he’d end up in the middle of nowhere while hitchhiking to the next town that might hold a job (legal or otherwise) where the stars ran through the whole sky and the bands of the milky way were visible to the naked eye. And he was alone. Curled up in the middle of someone’s field or lost next to the endless stretch of highway where mountains curled up above him with only the sounds of animals in the distance to remind him he wasn’t alone in the universe, the cold of his cell phone pressed against his hip reminding him he could go home at any time. After all, he’d never had any ambitions to run his own crew. What was the harm in joining one of his brothers’ gangs?

“Whatcha thinking about?” Ray probed him with the knuckle of one of his bony fingers.

“The stars,” Michael smiled and behind him he heard Gavin hit the ground with a distinct squawk and Jack snorts so hard that afterwards she bitches that she’d spilt her drink down her favorite shirt (not the Hawaiian one though, she’d ruined it during the Keystone job and had yet to replace it). Geoff had started the grill and above him the sliver of moon left was swept behind a passing cloud. It was going to rain soon.

Ray chucks the empty juice box at his head and hits him on the nose. Michael decides its worth the effort to raise his arm and flips him off. “Welcome back.”

Michael grunts and continues his sky watching.

The others have quieted down as Geoff pulls whatever he was cooking (hopefully steak) off the grill and Jack called for Ray and Gavin to set the table.

Michael smiles at Ryan as he stretches out next to him with their legs still hanging off the edge. “Does this have anything to do about that phone call you won’t tell anyone about?”

Michael closes his eyes and imagines what Los Santos would look illuminated only by stars. “I’ll tell you later, Rye-bread.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm accepting Fake AH prompts if you're interested!  
> Tumblr: thequeen117.tumblr.com  
> Fake AH Headcanons: http://thequeen117.tumblr.com/post/123564814716/


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